


To Be Hellish

by tuanpark



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Fluff, I'll probably write top connor next time, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive!Connor, Skull Fucking, Slightly Obsessive tbh, bottom!Connor, i like the idea of them having a schedule, jealous!connor, of who tops when, top!oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuanpark/pseuds/tuanpark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor Walsh does not do <i>jealousy.</i> It's totally unsightly, even if he does want to prevent Oliver from talking to any men out there. Gay, straight, or otherwise.</p><p>Or prompt: "Can you please do a Coliver fic based on Jealous by Nick Jonas? Also preferably smut??"</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Hellish

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fictional. I don't own these characters.
> 
> A/N: This totally got away from me. I didn't expect it to go over 3k, but lo and behold. Anyway, this is full of fandom references. I'm such trash, omg. Hope you like it! :D

"I really don't think I should," Oliver begins. "I'll just be awkward and mess everything up. Besides, I don't even know any of your co-workers."

"Nonsense," Connor replies confidently, hands tangled behind Oliver's lower back. The water from the shower hisses with heat. "You're very aware of your hands, and I just know everyone will love you."

Oliver quiets down for a moment and simply stares at Connor, droplets of water raining between them. With only a few centimeters apart, Connor feels the heavy weight of Oliver's eyes. They're having a whole conversation with eyebrows and tilted heads, and it's a testament to how much they understand one another. When Connor thinks that Oliver is on the verge of declining, he tries his last resort.

"It would really mean a lot to me if you came," Connor says slowly, making sure to put emphasis in every word. If his lips are a tiny bit pouted and his lashes are fluttering delicately, well, only Oliver is there to witness it. The droplets rush by through the middle, and Connor watches Oliver through them. It takes approximately 3.14 seconds for Oliver to give in, and Connor's success rate at persuading Oliver with sparkly eyes and pouty lips stays at 100%.

"Thank you," Connor says seriously before swooping in for a quick kiss, their lips wet from the shower.

"Yeah, yeah," Oliver says with playful exasperation. "Say, can we get on to what we were doing before?"

Connor smirks and slowly bends down until he's on his knees.

"You mean suck you off while we're taking a shower?" There's a glint in Connor's glance showing a promise of desire and naughtiness. And Oliver must catch it too because Connor sees the same amount of desire reciprocated in his irises.

"Exactly that."

Oliver doesn't smirk much, but Connor thinks this aura of confidence really suits him. As soon as he opens his lips, Oliver grabs him by the head and begins to thrust into his mouth relentlessly.

Good thing Connor has mastered controlling his gag reflex for years now. Connor loves the burn of it.

***

When Friday comes around, Connor finds himself in front of Oliver's doorstep for what seems like the hundredth time in the last three months. Three months doesn't even have one hundred days.

He's wearing the nicest jeans he owns matched by tan boots and a midnight purple sweater that clings to all the correct places. He has a light brown shirt that peeks out just at the top of his sweater. The whole attire is slightly uncomfortable, but he knows he looks fucking delicious in it. Well, you win some, you lose some.

He's still carrying the bouquet of white and yellow daffodils that he'd been contemplating on bringing since he's bought them. The thing is, he's not used to this. He's not used to courting boys, and he feels all these butterflies in his stomach that have been asleep for about a decade now. He has Oliver to thank for that.

Connor stands outside and uses his phone for a mirror to check his hair. Perfectly coiffed. He brings a palm to his mouth and breathes out. Perfectly minty. He hides the bouquet behind his back and prepares himself. With his heart beating through his chest, Connor takes a deep breathe and knocks on Oliver's door.

1\. 2. 3.

It seems as if each one is louder than the one before, his heart pumping with the same volume of each knock.

He wonders if the daffodils are a bit much, contemplates throwing it in front of the next door neighbor. He's walking to 304 when he turns back right around and steels himself. He has to do this; he has to show Oliver that he wants him. He needs to show Oliver that this thing they have going on? Connor is serious about it.

He's shocked breathless when Oliver opens the door.

The things is. _The thing is_. Oliver is wearing new glasses. They're thick, rectangular, and jet black, and Connor feels weak in the knees for some reason. It probably has to do with the plain tan sweater on top of the white button down. He's wearing a dark violet bow tie with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. His navy blue chinos are held up by a leather brown belt that's half hiding under his sweater. His boots matches his belt, and Connor doesn't recall ever seeing a prettier sight.

"Hey!" Oliver greets him. Connor almost misses the breathlessness from his voice because he's too busy losing air himself. "You look fantastic."

Connor can count on one hand the times he's been reduced to nothing but actions. His tongue seems to have gone missing, brain taken a vacation of its own accord. There isn't a single word in his vocabulary save for _Oliver_ and _wow_ and _gorgeous_.

He takes out the bouquet from behind his back, hoping it gives him a little more time to recollect himself, because oh my god, _Oliver._

The look of sheer surprise from Oliver is well worth the nervousness that had seeped itself into every vein, every artery in Connor's body.

"Daffodils," Oliver breathes out and slowly detaches the bouquet from Connor's grip. He brings it to his person at snail speed, as if this is all a dream and one wrong move could shatter the whole illusion. And god, that is so like Oliver, and Connor does not want him to experience this same type of uncertainty again. "You didn't have to. But thank you; they're beautiful."

 _You're beautiful_.

Oliver's face flushes almost immediately. Did Connor accidentally voice his thoughts?

"I-I'll just, uhm, go and find a vase f-for these," Oliver stutters. "Uhm. I'll be... I'll be back."

Considering the color of Oliver's neck as he turns around, Connor is sure that yeah, he definitely voiced his thoughts. He wonders how many people have called Oliver beautiful, if this one case is as special as it seems. When Oliver comes back, Connor is waiting is by the door with his hands resting behind his back.

"Ready to leave?" Connor asks coolly.

"Yeah, let me just lock up."

When Oliver faces the door to lock it, Connor can't help watch the way his pants hug his ass. The fabric pulls just enough to draw the bulge of it, but it carries enough space for it to be comfortable. As soon as Oliver turns back around, Connor slides him to the wall and begins a kiss with a hunger that's been prominent since Oliver opened the door. Oliver is shocked momentarily but soon regains his footing, giving Connor as good as he gets. And they explore each other's mouth for what seems like hours.

Oliver is the first to pull back.

"Aren't we supposed to go to that little get-together... thing?" He asks, winded. Connor checks his watch. They'll be early if they leave now.

"In a few," Connor responds and immediately resumes what they were doing.

Connor counts the seconds in his head, loses count when Oliver bites his lip and _pulls_. Connor will forever refuse that a soft, childish moan ever came out of his mouth because of it. That aside, Connor feels Oliver's teeth holding his bottom lip in place, and Connor can't help but breathe out. And when he does, Oliver surges back in with enough force to have Connor stumbling back. 

He doesn't remember who relents control, just that someone must have because they're already at the elevator. He's too dazed with the phantom of Oliver's soft lips to think about anything else. Connor misses this, this feeling of lacking in self-control. He can't explain it other than _chaotic bliss._

They begin their walk to Connor's car, hands brushing every so often. They don't say anything about it, content in the silence that bubbles them apart from the rest of the world. As Connor drives, Oliver plays around with the radio. He doesn't ask, and Connor is suddenly hit by how familiar they are with each other. If it were anyone else other than Oliver, Connor would have slapped their hands and barked "my radio! mine!" He's instantly struck with the amount of comfort he feels with Oliver, how safe he is in his presence. He's so startled by this new revelation that they almost hit the car in front of them.

Connor has good reflexes though and hits the brake at just the right second.

"We almost hit the car," Oliver declares right after the screech of the tires. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Connor replies, eyes wide at the road in front. It won't do them any good to die early, especially since they just got into this relationship. And is that what this is? This thing with Oliver. Is it a relationship? "Are you?"

"I'm alright."

Connor's reply of "good" is lost in the rumbling of the engine.

The rest of the ride is pleasant, no more near accidents. A few times, Connor feels Oliver's gaze, but when he looks back, Oliver is staring straight ahead with a smile on his face looking perfectly innocent. They almost get lost. The map app on their phones are life savers.

 ***

They're the third couple to arrive at Asher's house (oh god is that what they are? A couple?) right after Michaela with Aiden and Laurel with Kan. Asher greets them nicely, or at least as nicely as an entitled, arrogant know-it-all can be. Connor hopes Asher will be on his best behavior today, hopes the brilliance he sees of Asher in flashes will come out tonight. 

"Nervous?" Connor asks as they're led to the living room.

"Slightly," Oliver answers, shaking his hands.

"Don't be," Connor reassures him with a Cheshire cat smile. "They're just my... friends. You'll fit right in."

Connor takes Oliver's hand to keep him calm. However, he thinks he does it for Oliver as much as for himself. 

When they get to the living room where everyone is situated, Connor guides Oliver around to introduce him. He turns to Asher because he's right next to them, and it's unavoidable.

"Oliver, this is Asher, grade-A douche." Connor smirks as he presents Asher to Oliver. Asher looks affronted, and Connor rejoices. "Asher, this is Oliver, my..."

The cat's got his tongue. He isn't sure how he's supposed to finish the sentence. Boyfriend? He's not sure about that. Friend? Now that's just way too casual, and even Connor thinks they more than friends. Friends with benefits, maybe? 

The pause must have been too long because Oliver takes the reins.

"I'm his date," Oliver finishes shortly. Asher doesn't notice Oliver's steely voice. It's an octave lower than usual, and Connor only notices because he's so used to Oliver's usual tone. Connor's shoulder sags, feels his self-esteem deflate for not being brave enough on introducing Oliver as someone special to him. How can they be boyfriends or whatever if Connor doesn't even have the guts to say it?

They shake hands, and Asher introduces the girl next to him as Vanessa. He's immediately struck with remembrance of one Caroline Krafft from Mean Girls. Connor tries to be polite when he grabs her hand, refrains from commenting on her horrendous choice in skirt and hairstyle.

He steers them towards Michaela next. It's not because she's the closest friend Connor's had since high school, if a little reluctantly. It's just that she's closer in distance than Laurel. Yeah, that's it. Oliver is staring resolutely at everything that isn't Connor, and he finds it easy to admit that he does not like it when he doesn't have Oliver's attention. Additionally, Oliver is loosening his grip, as if uncertain about their hand-holding.

And is this how their story will be? Written in stone because Connor refuses to believe in these deep feelings they harbor for one another. Will they die out over time, Oliver finally being pushed to his limits by Connor's inability to be in a committed relationship? Connor doesn't think he wants that, losing such a wondrous presence in his everyday life.

It takes an eternity to get to Michaela. Connor must have died, been reborn, and then died again from the situations playing in his mind. By the time they get there, Connor feels so spent from the gears working in his head.

He doesn't let go of Oliver's hand, doesn't let Oliver let go of his.

"Oliver, this is Michaela, my coworker." Connor sees the immediate interest in Oliver's eyes. Connor's talked about her more than once, after all. "Michaela, this is Oliver..."

And as Oliver is about to open his mouth to finish the sentence, Connor finishes it himself. He pushes it out before he even has a chance to think about it. "My boyfriend."

Both Michaela and Oliver instantly turn towards Connor. He wonders if the action hurts from the speed with which it was done. Connor watches the disbelief color Oliver's eyes, the startled 'o' of his lips, and he hopes Oliver sees the pure adoration that Connor feels for him. Their smiles begin to form tentatively, relishing in this momentous occasion.

"Do you two need a room?" Asher says flatly in the background, snorting.

"I thought you don't do boyfriends?" Michaela says, and Connor turns to her. He didn't even realize that Aiden was there too, right behind Michaela with a hand on her waist.

Connor shrugs in answer. "First time for everything."

Michaela faces Oliver and they shake each other's hands, a soft "pleasure" traded between them. 

"And that's Aiden, Michaela's fiance."

There's something lingering in the way they look at each other. Before their handshake even finishes, Connor gently pulls Oliver away and trudges towards Laurel.

Once again, Connor introduces Oliver as his boyfriend, and Connor doesn't miss the big smile on Oliver's face and the startled look on Laurel's. He feels himself smiling widely too. He doesn't think he'll get tired of saying 'boyfriend' any time soon, wonders just why he hasn't been saying it before. Probably because nobody was good enough for Connor to consider his boyfriend. And Oliver? Oliver is plenty good. Oliver is too good. He thinks that it's their weakness as much as their strength.

Laurel introduces Kan to them the same time the doorbell rings. As they finish their introductions with Kan, Wes steps in with Rebecca in tow.

Wes will probably head to them last seeing as they're the farthest from Wes. Connor makes good use of the time by turning to Oliver and considering his reaction to all of this.

"So," Connor tries, keeping his eyes on the way Oliver's mouth is twitching to form a smile. Connor grabs him by the waist and inserts his hands into Oliver's back pockets, much to Oliver's surprise.

"Hey," Oliver smile peaks like the sun behind a valley. And Connor can't help but be attracted to it like metal to magnet in the slowest of motions. Connor gifts him with a light kiss on the lips, not unlike a raindrop. It's fast and gone in a blink of an eye, but as massive as an explosion if magnified. He thinks their first kiss as boyfriends is befitting of the way Connor declared them together.

"It's quite rude to ignore everyone else, you know," Oliver breathes out.

"Not important right now," Connor offers. Oliver searches for something in Connor's face. He must find it because he rests his forehead on Connor's shoulder. Connor thinks he can spend eternity like this, in Oliver's general vicinity. Their little bubble is broken when Wes clears his throat. Connor grunts.

"Ah! Wes, Rebecca, this is Oliver, my boyfriend," Connor introduces them without taking his hand out of Oliver's pocket. He observes the way Wes' eyes widen, to which Connor replies with a huff and Oliver with a light chuckle. "Oh, come on, it is _not_ that surprising."

"It totally is," Wes snickers.

Connor pouts. "Boyfriend, this is Wes and Rebecca."

Oliver disentangles himself from Connor's grip to shake their hands. He would be lying if he said he doesn't miss the warmth immediately.

"So how is it that you were able to melt Connor's icy heart?" Wes jokes.

"I have no idea actually," Oliver says as he looks from Wes to Connor and back. "Must be my charming smile and geeky tendencies to make Harry Potter references."

"No way, you like Harry Potter?" Wes asks with mirth dancing behind his eyes. Rebecca laughs and punches Wes lightly on the arm, followed by a soft "dork."

"Totally," Oliver replies enthusiastically. "The whole Harry Potter series stretches from my middle school years to college!"

"That's great, Oliver Wood." Oliver and Wes laugh at the same time, and Connor is left wondering who the hell is Oliver Wood?

"I have no idea if it's just me, but you remind me a lot of Dean Thomas." Connor doesn't miss the keen interest in Oliver's tone.

"Who's Dean Thomas?" Connor asks. It's at the same time Wes replies, "I get that a lot actually. It must be the dimples."

And Connor's question is left unanswered as Oliver chuckles. "It must be."

It's a rather new feeling having Oliver give him minimal attention, and Connor is flabbergasted by how needy he feels right now. He calms himself and lets it pass, considers it irrational to do anything but listen to Oliver and Wes communicate. It was Connor's idea, after all, for Oliver to meet his friends. He just didn't expect such an instantaneous, genuine _click_ between them.

"I'm quite disappointed that the movie glossed over a ton of scenes from the book," Wes says.

Connor bites his lip and squeezes Oliver's hand, expecting one back. But Oliver doesn't. Instead he's leaning towards Wes. "I know. Percy's apology didn't even make the cut."

He tries to find the good in this. Oliver seems to be having fun. There's a joyous note in his tone that is only ever present when he's speaking about things he loves.

This is good. This is great. Connor tries to convince himself, but it feels as if repeating the phrases is just simply that, repetition. It doesn't seem to be sinking in, probably because there's something else occupying Connor's body that leaves no room for anything else. He doesn't want to acknowledge it though, because acknowledging it's existence means he feels it. And he does not want to feel it.

Irritation crawls on his skin at the fact that he's not included in the conversation. It spreads slowly, taking each centimeter in minutes.

It's still just as lethal.

They take a quarter of an hour waxing poetic about JK Rowling's brilliant writing and asking each other questions. Connor feels antsier and antsier as each minute passes by. 

"There's no way you like Half-Blood Prince more than Order of the Phoenix," Wes goes on. The itch is burning brightly like wildfire now. And if he's brutally honest, Connor does not want to be here for this conversation.

"I don't know," Oliver shrugs. "It felt like Order of the Phoenix was a little too long for my taste. Granted the sixth book isn't that much shorter, and-"

Connor stops listening by then. There's heat pooling in his stomach, swirling harshly like a high tide rising to his throat. He suppresses it by standing up and excusing himself.

"I'm going to go get a drink," Connor tries to keep his voice as neutral as possible, not the steely tone his mouth so wants to spit out.

Oliver smiles an "okay," and resumes talking to Wes about the Hogwarts Houses. Connor rolls his eyes and stomps towards the kitchen where the drinks are at. He spends a ridiculously long time contemplating between 7 Up and Sprite. Surely there's not much difference, but there's a tinge of _something_ which Sprite has that 7 Up doesn't and vice versa. He ends up choosing a can of beer over anything else.

He considers grabbing Oliver a can and remembers that his boyfriend is in the other room having the time of his life with one of Connor's friends. And god, he doesn't remember ever feeling this unstable since never. The things that Oliver does to him will make him crazy, that Connor is certain of. But the things that Oliver currently isn't doing to him, like paying him any attention, is what will definitely push Connor over the edge.

He finds resolution in the kitchen. Grabbing a can of soda for Oliver, he begins his road to making sure he gets Oliver's undivided attention.

As soon as he open the door though, he can distinguish Oliver's laugh from the chatter. It's like music to Connor's ears, and it annoys him that Wes is the one to make him laugh like that, not him.

It's not like Oliver is _solely_ Connor's. It's that Oliver is _mostly_ his, and what's his really shouldn't be up for grabs by anyone else in the solar system. 

He tries to even his breathing, but he can feel them coming out in gasps. He clamps his mouth shut to stop himself from breathing like a winded rhinoceros and saunters over to where Wes and Oliver are sat. To Wes' other side is Rebecca, and she seems to be enjoying a conversation with Laurel and Kan. On the love seat is Michaela snuggling with Aiden, alone in their own world. Asher has Vanessa bracketed against the wall, and they're making out like there's nobody else present.

Connor grits his teeth.

When he gets there, he tosses Oliver the can and drops heavily next to him, mouth into a prominent pout.

"Are you... okay?" Oliver asks cautiously. 

_No, not really._

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? I mean-"

"I'm fine, Oliver." Connor's tone is shockingly scathing. It's harsher than he intended, and Oliver must think so too because he's looking at Connor with mild surpise. And maybe a little hurt.

"Right," Oliver gathers himself. It takes a beat before Oliver tangles their hands together, fingers filling in the spaces between Connor's. He likes this, the way it ground him to reality. It's a reminder that Oliver is Connor's and not anyone else's. Connor brings Oliver's hand to his lips. Since when did Connor begin kissing hands? What?

Oliver is taken aback because he's rendered speechless. But Wes is asking him which house he'd place Connor in, and the moment is completely ruined.

"I think I'd put him in Slytherin," Oliver answers. Connor is slightly affronted.

"Me too," Wes says in agreement.

"Excuse you, I am not evil." Connor says with the most attitude he can muster. Voldymold was in Slytherin, he at least knows that much.

"Being in Slytherin doesn't necessarily mean you're evil, young Padawan," Oliver explains as Wes nods.

"Young what?"

"Never mind that. I chose you to be in Slytherin because you're ambitious and cunning," Oliver begins. And alright, Connor can dig that. Oliver is staring resolutely at Connor now, and he says these next couple of sentences with such a serious tone that it silences Connor for a moment. "And there's this desire to prove everyone wrong, to show that you're the best. You'd do just about anything to achieve that."

Moments like these, Connor feels alive. There's heat pooling in his stomach, but it's from the desire seeping through his pores. There's irritation under his skin, but it's the itch to touch every inch of Oliver right now. It's by no means silent in the room, but Connor doesn't hear anything else other than his and Oliver's breathing, refuses to hear anything but that.

"In that case, all five of us should be in Slytherin," Wes says somewhere faraway. "Except probably Laurel. I sense some Ravenclaw qualities in her."

It takes Oliver one, two, three beats before he turns back to Wes. There's hesitance there, and Connor feels sick from being satisfied at that. 

"It's highly probable that she fits both categories," Oliver says as he pushes his new glasses up. It really does sit quite nicely on Oliver's face, squaring it so that Oliver's eyes are at full display. "After all, we can't all be confined in just one box. She's divergent."

Connor would probably be annoyed at Waitlist's interruption had it not been for Oliver squeezing his hand in between sentences. Instead, it's reduced to a slight discomfort floating around in Connor's arteries. It heats up Connor blood, enough for it to make Connor feel restless but not enough to make his blood boil.

He knows what this is, even if he's never experienced it before. At least, not romantically, and definitely not quite to this degree. He huffs.

Connor Walsh does not do _jealousy_. It's totally unsightly, even if he does want to prevent Oliver from talking to any men out there. Gay, straight, or otherwise.

By the time dinner comes around, Connor is able to maintain his cool. It's not as if he should be threatened by Wes, god no. Wes is with Rebecca anyway, and Oliver is Connor's.

The dining table is large, adorned by a leafy centerpiece. Their dinner consists of Lemon Chicken with herbs, French Onion Soup and Baked Mashed Potato. It totally makes Connor's mouth water.

To his right sits Laurel, and she's talking animatedly with Kan on her other side. Asher is across from Connor, and he seems to be aggressively flirting with Vanessa who's sat between him and Michaela. He's a little glad for the centerpiece blocking half of him. Wes is next to Asher, Connor a little reassured by the distance between Wes and Oliver. There's a presence of fondness for everyone here, except probably for Vanessa and Kan, both of whom he doesn't know much of. He'll forever refuse to voice it out though, that the annoyance he felt for all of them turned into indifference which gradually transformed into fondness.

God, he's turned into a softy, and it's all Oliver's fault. Speaking of whom, he's on Connor's left and is right next to Aiden. Connor isn't sure if he's comfortable with that. After all, how not awkward is it to see your boyfriend in the same frame as one of your previous casual flings?

They start eating after Michaela makes a toast about fighting through this semester and that may the best employee win.

Oliver looks over at Connor as they're drinking, and there's a hint of lust shining in them. Just as Connor is about to make an innuendo, Aiden interrupts them.

"Oliver, right?"

If looks could cause pain, Aiden would be on the floor right now with the way Connor is absolutely glaring at him. Oliver, ever the polite man, turns to him and begins a conversation.

"Yeah. Aiden, was it?" Aiden nods.

"So you're Connor's boyfriend, then?" Connor pushes his chin up and puffs his chest, hopes he exudes an aura of someone protecting his territory. Oliver is by no means an object of property, Connor knows that much, but Oliver is his all the same. There's a familiar tingling in his fingers. Oliver looks back at Connor with the tiniest of smiles, eyes filled with mirth.

"I guess so."

Connor doesn't like the uncertainty there, so he places his hand on Oliver's thigh and exerts some pressure on it.

"Where did you two meet?" Aiden asks, seemingly interested. Connor isn't sure what he's playing at.

"At a bar," Connor answers with a smirk. "And he worked his magic and convinced me to go to his place."

Oliver is looking at him weirdly now. So yeah, Connor is changing the story a bit. He doesn't really know why, just doesn't fancy Oliver talking to Aiden.

"Quite easily, I might add." He continues, "And he did this thing with his tongue-"

"So, Aiden. What do you do?" Oliver interrupts, probably too shy to share their sex life.

"Oh," Aiden seems quite taken aback by the change in topic. "Uhm, Civil Engineering."

The same spark that was present in Oliver's eyes earlier is back. "I love Math and Physics!"

Aiden chuckles, but his irises reflect the same passion for the topic. "Me too. When I was in boarding school with Con-"

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._ Behind Oliver, Connor is quick to gesture that their casual fling is off topic. Aiden seems to have noticed. And Connor will tell Oliver anything about him if he asks, even this, but only on the condition that Oliver brings it up. He doesn't think a reminder of his prior attitude towards commitment will do their budding relationship any good.

"-with constant doubt of even passing, I never thought I'd fall in love with the subjects. But the professors taught it with such enthusiasm that I must have caught their love for it too."

"For me, I've always loved it." Oliver replies avidly. "Thinking in Physics is quite a hobby."

"It's sort of protocol for me to do that," Aiden chuckles.

Connor can't believe this is about to happen once again. The two get sucked in a conversation of which analysis they like most. He thinks he hears the words Kinematics and Force Analysis but he loses them when they start delving into the the wonders of Torque.

He looks around to see if he's the only one witnessing this rather unexpected situation occurring right in front of him. And sure enough, Laurel is feeding Kan spoons and spoons of mashed potatoes. He reciprocates.

Connor looks back at Oliver and is about to copy Laurel and Kan when he sees the way he's smiling as he talks about how Calculus clicked after learning Physics. How the line of mathematical thought harmonized with the scientific. And Connor gets that, the feeling of revelation that takes you like a perfect storm and leaves you breathless from the chaos and amazement that follows after.

He smiles to himself and kisses Oliver on the shoulder. Oliver doesn't feel it, and Connor thinks it's his intention that counts. He looks over at Wes, in a fitful conversation with Asher and Rebecca. To the other side sits Vanessa with Michaela, the latter having her hand held out with the former spouting compliments of the perfect manicure. And when he turns to Oliver again, he sees Aiden's hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, and there's this familiar heat simmering at the base of his spine, spiraling outwards at terminal velocity.

Connor wonders why he's the only seeing the unusual connection between Oliver and Aiden. Or maybe it's Connor who's unusual? And okay, there's a thought. Is it possible that he's only imagining these details, which would otherwise be insignificant, only because he's looking for them?

He tries not to let the way their voices intermingle affect him so. He thinks he fails quite horribly because he accidentally grabs Oliver's thigh so harshly that the other boy jolts.

"Ow, what was that for?" Oliver asks, confusion evident on his face. Connor feels disgustingly dirty for finding slightest pleasure in the pain that results from it. There's a very tiny part of himself saying Oliver deserves it for not paying him attention, but there's a larger part of him that resents himself for thinking such things. It's not fair to Oliver or to him.

"I'm sorry, babe," Connor gets out. "I-I was a little dazed."

Connor downs his wine and drowns away the jealousy eating at him. Oliver doesn't stop looking at him though. Connor's been waiting for this, thirsty with the need to have all of Oliver's attention and his eyes at him.

"You called me 'babe,'" Oliver says softly and in a rush. Huh. He did, didn't he? Oliver's face is the definition of wonderment and sparkles, and Connor finds it more than reassuring that Connor can do that to him. It's only a fraction of the bewilderment he feels for everything that is Oliver, though. It keeps his jealousy at bay, and Connor is glad he's found his sense of control.

He leans in for a kiss, and it's sweet even with the bitter aftertaste of the wine that's sticking to to Connor's tongue. Oliver must taste it too. God, just the thought of them tasting each other has Connor so fucking horny.

"We should get out of here," Connor whispers into his lips. And Oliver hums in agreement.

"Just give us half an hour so as not to seem rude by leaving in the middle of dinner," Oliver says softly into Connor's skin.

The time passes by with Oliver and Aiden talking about the movie Gravity. Connor lets him, knows that only Connor can make Oliver's world as wild as Oliver can make his. The way their fingers latch onto each other is the most reassuring presence.

Connor spends his time talking with Laurel at his side, poking fun at Asher in front of him, and making scathing side comments to all of Michaela's conversations. 

They make their goodbyes to the group, feels a hint of jealousy when Oliver gets around to Wes and Aiden. Connor stands up a little straighter, taller, chest pushed out as if to chase away anyone trying to get too close to Oliver. But it dies down when Oliver comes back to him and laces his hand with his. As soon as Oliver's fingertips fill the spaces between Connor's, he feels at home. Safe. Warm.

On the ride home, Oliver talks about how great Connor's friends are.

"Yeah," Oliver drones on. "Wes is totally cool. His slight obsession with Harry Potter totally matches mine!"

Connor resists rolling his eyes, both from fondness (because Oliver is too cute when blabbering) and the underlying feeling of envy of Oliver and the connection he has with Wes that he doesn't have with Connor. 

Maybe he should delve into Harry Potter series, solely to get the chance to watch Oliver talking avidly to him about it. Gosh, he's so head over heels for this boy.

"He told me he has one of the companion books, one of the books JK Rowling wrote for charity that's supposed to be used for Hogwarts students third to seventh year," Oliver says. It all flies past Connor from one ear to the other, possibly from observing the sheer joy painting Oliver's face. "And he said I could come by to look at it."

"Maybe we should stop talking about Wes for a while," Connor tries as he squeezes Oliver's hand. This hand-holding thing is so addictive that Connor wonders why he doesn't do this more often if it makes him feel so pleasant.

"Alright." Oliver replies.

The rest of the ride is filled with Oliver blurting facts from practically everything he sees on the road. Connor wonders when he'll stop being so endeared, unsure if he even wants that to happen.

It's up at 303 that Connor pushes his person inside, forcing Oliver back with a force that has them toppling over to the floor. They fall with an _oomph_ , and Connor closes the door with his foot before surging back in with the burning _something_ that's been boiling since the beginning of the night.

"Connor," Oliver gasps out in between breaths. Connor doesn't think he's heard anything sexier than his name coming out Oliver's breathy lips. "Connor."

"Yes?" Connor situates himself so that his leg is between Oliver's, and he can feel their penises harsh and stiff rubbing against each other. Connor pushes his pelvis just enough to have Oliver's moans reverberating against the floor.

"Buh.."

"What?" Connor asks as he nips at Oliver's neck.

"Beh..." Oliver tries again, and Connor bites at Oliver's deltoid which has the other boy groaning. "Bed! Fuck."

Connor stands up slowly, pulling Oliver along with his bowtie.

When they get to the bed, Connor spins them around and pushes Oliver down. Taking off his clothes just as Oliver does himself. They're in their underwear when Connor comes back down, hand massaging Oliver through his boxer-briefs. Oliver is writhing underneath his touch, and fuck yeah, neither Wes nor Aiden are allowed do this to him. Connor. Only Connor. Only ever Connor.

"What?" Oliver gasps.

"Nothing," Connor answers before stepping out of his underwear and his cock springs free. The rushing of the air against his slightly wet cock feels good, even better when Oliver sits up and grabs at it.

"Suck it," Connor commands, temperature spiking up with volume of his voice. Oliver looks at him hotly, face heating up with lust before he leans closer and does an experimental lick on the head of Connor's penis.

Connor grabs at Oliver's hair, pulls it the tiniest of increments before demanding once again. "I said suck it."

Oliver bites his lip and moans. He starts sucking. The slurp of his tongue against Connor's penis is the only noise in the evening.

Connor tries. He really tries not to push forward but Oliver's mouth is just too warm and too slick, and Connor finds himself wanting more, needing more. And just as he does everything else that he needs, he takes them. Holding Oliver's head in place, he begins to thrust in and out of Oliver's mouth. He thinks he feels the head of his penis hitting the back of Oliver's throat, and god, he can come just from this.

He holds Oliver's head and pushes as far as he can and _stays_ there. Oliver almost gags, but Connor shushes him.

"Relax, Ollie," Connor tries.

Oliver hums in return, and Connor wants to push even deeper, but he's already all the way in, deep in Oliver's throat.

"So good, babe," Connor gasps as he feels Oliver swallow. His throat constricts against Connor's penile head, and fuck, it almost makes Connor scream with pleasure. Oliver hums a bit more in reply and starts playing with Connor's balls.

Connor groans and pulls back, grabs a condom and a bottle of lube from Oliver's bedside drawer. Funny how Connor knows where these things are.

"Hurry," Oliver says impatiently, sliding out of his underwear and starts playing with his penis. Connor opens the lube and pours some on Oliver's dick. At the same time, he squirts some on Oliver's fingers to ready himself for Oliver's penis. They like to take turns, and this week happens to be Oliver's.

Connor takes Oliver's lube-coated fingers and inserts two inside himself. It makes him groan as Oliver's fingers push against the wall of his anus, and sooner or later, Connor finds himself pushing all the way down and back.

"Tight," Oliver says as he watches his fingers disappear into Connor's ass, upgrading from two to three. From the corner of his eyes, Connor sees the slow speed at which Oliver's palm is playing with his cock. Connor pushes Oliver's hand away and replaces it with his. As soon as he does, Oliver gasps because Connor jerks him off in quick successions with his hands gripped tight on Oliver's shaft.

As Connor jerks him off, Oliver inserts his fourth finger, and Connor feels so full with it. He can't wait any longer, wants to be full not with Oliver's fingers but with his cock. Connor rips the condom packet and rolls it on Oliver, pouring a generous amount of lube for both of their pleasure.

Connor lines himself up with Oliver, can feel the squishy head of Oliver's penis resting just under his hole. Sitting up like this, Connor and Oliver are eye-to-eye, and they don't release the contact as Connor slowly pushes himself down on Oliver's cock. It doesn't take long before Oliver is fully seated, and Connor kisses him, lips tingly from the blood rushing at triple speed. He brings his arms around Oliver's neck, gasps into their kiss when Oliver takes him by the waist and pushes up.

Connor grabs at Oliver's hair, lips still connected as he keeps fucking himself on Oliver's cock.

"You're so warm," Oliver gulps as his grip tightens on Connor's midsection. Connor feels his penis rubbing against Oliver's stomach as he drops up and down, feels the heat from the friction make his penis ever stiffer. He's close when he hears Oliver muttering nonsense into his neck. And god, what he would do to have this forever, to have Oliver forever his. Connor's. Mine.

"Yours," Oliver agrees, and Connor should really stop voicing his opinions absentmindendly.

"Mine," Connor repeats into Oliver's neck.

"Mine," He repeats into Oliver's jawline.

"Mine," He repeats into Oliver's lips.

He feels his penis spurt some come as they kiss, his whole body tingling with electricity. The orgasm feels like a wave, swelling outward in tides and gaining amplitude the farther it goes. He feels it in his fingertips, hopes Oliver's orgasm is like this with him too, like there's nothing else that matters but them and where they're connected.

Oliver flips them over and starts to thrust into him relentlessly. Connor can't help but moan as Oliver's penis hits his prostate repeatedly, each contact seemingly exerting more pressure into the walls of his anus than the one before.

"Close," Oliver says in warning before his thrusting becomes stilted and releases himself inside Connor. One day, when they both know they're clean, they'll have unprotected sex and feel like the most connected they've ever been. But tonight, tonight this is okay. Tonight, this is fine, because Oliver is Connor's, and that's pretty much all that mattes in the grand scheme of things. He closes his eyes as Oliver collapses on top of him, wants to relish in the heat of their action.

Connor thinks he can get used to this.

With his eyes closed, his mind wanders to all that happened today. He's realized two things: he gets jealous easily, and he has a boyfriend. A boyfriend.

Wasn't it just a while ago that Connor declared himself unfit to have one, not because he doesn't know how to be but because he doesn't want one.

He repeats two words simultaneously, like learning how to walk for the first time, taking one step at a time, one in front of the other, endless.

_Left. Right. Left. Right. Boyfriend. Mine. Boyfriend. Mine._

When he opens his eyes again, Oliver is by his side reading a book. He must have fallen asleep because he isn't sticky and he doesn't smell of sex. Oliver must have cleaned him up.

"Awake, then?" Oliver asks, his glasses sliding down just a bit. Connor fixes it for him.

"Yes."

It hangs between them, not awkwardly, just present.

"I was jealous tonight," Connor admits. It feels weird feeling it, feels even weirder saying it out loud. "Of Wes and Aiden."

Oliver looks at him as if he's grown two heads.

"Connor," Oliver sighs.

"No, I know. I'm not the jealous type," He's really not. And why does his voice feel so raw? "It's just... I'm so infatuated by you that I wonder if everyone else feels the same way I do."

Oliver seems to be speechless, and Connor isn't sure what to make of that. He thinks Oliver's smiling though, there's that.

"I know exactly how that feels," Oliver is staring right at Connor, book all but forgotten. "Which was why I was ecstatic when you introduced me as your boyfriend."

"Why's that?" Connor asks, wonders what the connection is between the two.

"The label entails commitment that you'd be faithful to me as I would be to you," Oliver says, hushed. "And it makes me feel less insecure of this thing between us."

Connor understands. And Connor is six feet under all of these suffocating emotions he feels for Oliver and his words.

He looks back seriously and nods, makes sure Oliver knows Connor feels the same. They don't say anything else, both just falling into their usual place.

Oliver turns off the lamp and begins putting his book away, Connor scooting as close as he possibly can. Oliver lays his arm out on the pillow. Connor rests his head there and places his hand right on top of Oliver's heart. He can fall asleep to the beat of it, probably will if he just closes his eyes again and lets the sound echo in his skull.

In the dead of the night, Connor's heart attunes to that of Oliver's. And just before slumber takes over him, Connor feels their hearts beat as one.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaah thank you for reading! I don't even know hot this got to 7k. Anyway, comments/kudos are appreciated.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, yeah? [colivrs](http://colivrs.tumblr.com)


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